


Quickest Way Back

by sunstarunicorn



Series: Magical Flashpoint Side Stories [14]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Second Chances, Second impressions, second meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 13:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15120122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: For the past six months, Harry Potter has been sulking and brooding over his failure to come home with the Calvin siblings.  Then Team One blazed back into his life during their quest to get their teammates back.  Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to give the Muggles another chance.  A Magical Flashpoint Side Story





	1. Turning Back

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. This story follows "Be Strong and Very Courageous" and comes before "Blessings". This story is also set _after_ "The Proxy for the House of Wordsworth".
> 
> I know many people asked right after "Trial By Fire" and "Family By Blood, Family By Choice" for a story where Harry came back and saw how Greg interacts with the kids (and hopefully dumped his Dursley tinted view of non-magicals). Well, it might be a _lot_ later than people were hoping, but here it is!
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

_A Squib, huh?_ Harry resisted the urge to laugh hysterically after Neville left his office. Two Squib-borns, the Squib son of a Death Eater, and four out and out Muggles. Sounded more like the beginning of a bad joke than a summary of one of Magical Canada’s top Auror teams. And the more Harry thought about it, the more he impressed he was that Parker’s team worked at all, much less as well as it did. On the _surface_ , it shouldn’t work at all. Magic and Muggle working _together?_ Literally on the same team? It _should_ have been unthinkable, impossible, but it wasn’t.

The first time he’d gone to Canada, he’d had ‘Mione at his back and his head held high, _positive_ that he’d come back with Arthur Calvin’s children. He’d _finally_ be able to keep his promise to Arthur, his promise to keep the young ones safe, to be the wind at their backs as they grew up without their parents. He’d _finally_ get them away from the _Muggle_ who’d _never_ value them as he and Ginny would.

Instead, he’d returned with his tail all but tucked between his legs after Gringotts interfered and essentially handed the youngsters back to Parker on a silver platter. Resentful and furious that Arthur’s two kids had been ripped out of his grasp, he’d vowed to watch from afar, ready and waiting for another chance, however unlikely said chance was. But then life had interfered, along with the usual yearly crop of bad apples, so the watching had simply…never happened.

Now, as he flipped through the report Gringotts had sent him as the Calvin Family proxy, he was actually grateful he hadn’t been able to keep an eye on the children. If he _had_ , he would’ve pounced as soon as Parker ended up in a coma. And _that_ would’ve been an utter _disaster_ …almost inevitably leading to Parker’s demise and a fate worse than death for the Squib-born Sergeant. And that… Harry shuddered at the trail of dominos he could see, even in just the barebones Gringotts report. In trying to save the children, he would have hurt _so_ many people, ruined _far_ too many lives. He might have even felt smug and justified in his actions.

Slowly, Harry closed the report, thinking hard. Despite his own behavior, despite the family history Wordsworth _had_ to have known about before he contacted Neville, despite _everything_ that had been thrown at them, the Squibs and Muggles kept moving forward, refusing to back down or run away from the magical world. It didn’t tally with Harry’s view of Muggles, not in the _slightest_. Muggles were supposed to be _happier_ ignoring magic, not eagerly mixing magic and technology as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And from what he could find out, Gringotts was even starting to quietly market some of the devices they’d developed for Parker’s team. It was small, subtle, and being run through another company – likely the same company Wordsworth had told Neville about – but, sooner or later, the magical world was _going_ to get dragged into the twenty-first century, despite all the kicking and screaming the purebloods could – and would – do.

The raven wizard knew, intellectually, that most Muggleborns grew up in loving, caring families who accepted their magic and celebrated those talents, though none of them had ever gone to the same lengths Parker and his crew were. Hermione was one such Muggleborn, not to mention most of Harry’s Muggleborn former classmates. He also knew, intellectually, that the magical world couldn’t sustain the Statute of Secrecy forever. Sooner or later, like it or not, the Muggle world was _going_ to rediscover their magical counterparts.

But none of that intellectual knowledge changed Harry’s _emotional_ perspective. Didn’t change how _he_ had grown up, in Dudley’s shadow, shunned and punished for accidental magic he himself hadn’t understood. Kept in a broom cupboard under the stairs, locked in and often short of food. Even after saving Dudley’s life before his fifth year, Harry hadn’t been accepted by _any_ of the Dursleys, though Dudley _had_ reached out right before the Battle of Seven Potters. He’d never reached back…in fact, the last time Harry had looked up the Dursleys had been right after the Battle of Hogwarts and, frankly, he’d just wanted to make sure they’d survived…he hadn’t been interested in anything more than that.

The wizard shook himself out of his musings and tucked the folder away in a locked drawer of his desk. He could come back and look at it in the morning. For now, he just wanted to go home and hug his wife and children.

* * * * *

Ginny Potter née Weasley welcomed her husband home with their usual hug and kiss, then she shooed him towards the children, smiling as Lily shrieked in joy, her father tossing her up in the air and drawing her in close on the catch. As their sons demanded their turns, Ginny turned back to cooking their dinner. Her wand flicked at the kitchen implements, ensuring that the knives kept chopping the carrots for the stew she was putting together. Another flick lifted the bubbling pot off the fire; she would let it cool for a few minutes before she added the finishing touches.

As she worked, dishes flying from the cabinet to the table and her towel briskly wiping up a few small spots of water, she considered her next steps. Ever since Harry had failed to come home with Arthur Calvin’s orphaned children, she’d been doing her own planning to bring _her_ children home, where they belonged. As far as the ginger witch was concerned, they were _hers_ in all but blood. When Harry had brought them home from St. Mungo’s, right after their parents died, she’d taken them in as her own and no insignificant scrap of parchment could change that!

Oh, she was sure that Gregory Parker was a perfectly nice man. But he was a _Muggle_ , not a wizard…he couldn’t _possibly_ understand what it took to raise magical children. That many of her classmates had been raised by their equally non-magical parents never occurred to the witch – it was simply outside of her rather sheltered experience. Even the War had not changed the fact that Ginny Potter had grown up in the magical world and almost never left it.

As their dinner made its way to the table, Ginny resolved to speak to her husband about going to Toronto. If she couldn’t have _her_ children, she was going to make _sure_ the _Muggle_ knew she was watching. Gregory Parker might have beaten her Harry in a beast taming challenge, but that ‘victory’ didn’t hold a candle to giving two orphans a home with a _real_ mother. In _their_ own world.

* * * * *

Reluctantly, Harry cracked open the parchment from Gringotts…given half a chance, he’d have squirmed his way out of this particular task, but Ginny had _insisted_ on _this_ course of action. She wanted to meet Parker for herself, to judge him according to the Weasley Family standards, a high bar indeed. Much like her mother had pretty much adopted him on sight, Ginny had adopted Lancelot and Alanna on sight; the news that Arthur had willed his children to a cousin Harry hadn’t even known _existed_ had been a bitter, bitter blow to both adults.

But _he’d_ seen the two Calvins since then, a fact Ginny was increasingly jealous of. Despite how much Harry would’ve liked to let Parker cool down for a few more weeks – or months – Ginny was tired of waiting and _determined_ to see ‘her’ children. With his wife unhappy, Harry’s course had been all but predetermined; within a day of her threat to make him sleep on the couch, Harry’s missive to Gringotts was on its way, requesting a meeting with Sergeant Parker and his wards.

Ginny hadn’t been pleased in the _slightest_ when Harry told her they couldn’t just pop off to Toronto and demand Parker drop everything to meet with them; the man had a _job_ …an important one. In fact, Ginny had been so angry that Harry had simply gotten out a few blankets to make up the couch, only for his wife to magic them back to their cupboard.

* * * * *

_“Harry, I’m sorry,” Ginny whispered, shame-faced. “It’s not_ your _fault we can’t just go meet this Muggle.”_

_Harry hugged his wife, understanding that she was just worried about the two teenagers she considered her children. “I’ll send the request tomorrow, Ginny,” he promised._

_“And we can bring them home?”_

_Green eyes closed in sorrow. “Gin, love, we can’t,” Harry replied sadly. “The Calvin family magic considers Parker their guardian now. Unless he dies, Lancelot and Alanna are_ his _now.”_

_“What? Harry, what are you talking about?”_

_Harry averted his gaze. “The challenge, Ginny. When I lost it, the Calvin family magic basically made Parker their ‘father’. They’re his now, by right of blood_ and _magic.”_

_Ginny wept as she understood. Harry cradled her, lifting his wife off the ground and carrying her to bed as she grieved for what could never be._

* * * * *

Harry scanned the letter, his shoulders slumping. Parker had agreed to a meeting, but he was insisting on meeting the elder Potters _alone_. His charges, the Squib-born insisted, would _not_ be at the initial meeting and if the Potters didn’t like it, they didn’t have to come at all. In fact, Harry suspected that if he and Ginny _didn’t_ come, that would suit Parker right down to the ground…he did _not_ trust them, particularly after Harry’s attempt to take the children. To top the hits off, Parker had already picked out a location, one which was defiantly based in the _Muggle_ world. Home turf for Parker, on two counts. And non-negotiable.

Ginny was _not_ going to be happy about this.


	2. First Meeting, Take Two

Greg Parker took a few moments to study Mrs. Potter as the two approached. He’d chosen a random park close to SRU Headquarters, but now that he was here, he was fairly certain that this was the _exact_ same park where he’d first met Arthur, Victoria, and his two _nipotes_. His smile grew broader at the thought of _his_ two kids, his two amazing gifts and the brightest parts of his life.

Mrs. Potter glanced around the park, her face and eyes just a bit nervous: a woman outside of her comfort zone and already missing it. Lord Potter wasn’t unnerved, but Greg knew the man had grown up in the tech world, unlike his wife. When the couple came to a stop in front of him, Parker met Mrs. Potter’s eyes and smiled as gently as if he’d been confronted with a frightened hostage. “Lord Potter, Mrs. Potter.”

“Sergeant Parker,” Lord Potter returned, extending his hand and shaking Greg’s firmly. “How are Aurors Braddock and Scarlatti?”

The Sergeant’s return look was partially rueful. “They’re getting there. Sam’s still a bit rattled by what happened and both of them got hit by the _Cruciatus_ , but they’re tough.” Parker cocked his head to the side. “I think it did help that Sam finally got to say ‘good-bye’ to his best friend.”

Lord Potter nodded sorrowfully, shadows in his eyes, and Mrs. Potter’s expression was just as shadowed. Greg carefully didn’t ask; he already knew they’d lost friends and family…to _both_ Wizarding Wars. Instead, he politely shifted his attention to their surroundings until the two Potters had recovered their composure. As soon as his peripheral vision caught a slight straightening, he snapped back to them, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

“Sergeant Parker,” Mrs. Potter began, a mix of assertiveness and tentativeness in her voice, “How are the children?”

Parker considered his answer carefully, well aware that there was a possessive glitter in the witch’s eyes. “Much better than when they first came,” he opened with. “I won’t lie, those first few weeks were quite a ride and we had a lot of misunderstandings and mishaps.”

Lord Potter coughed to cover a laugh, though amusement shone in his emerald eyes.

Greg quirked a grin. “Could’ve been worse,” he mused, a twinkle lurking in the background. Then he sobered. “In hindsight, I think my team finding out about magic was inevitable. Lance and Alanna just did _not_ know enough about technology to keep magic secret.”

The witch frowned indignantly, but Lord Potter cleared his throat, drawing her gaze. “Ginny, do you remember what one of the _first_ questions your father asked me was?”

Parker glanced between the two, sensing a prank of some sort and unsure of who it was aimed at. Mrs. Potter’s brown eyes crinkled in puzzlement and she shook her head.

A faint smirk and Lord Potter shifted his gaze to look at both of his companions. “He asked me what the function of a rubber duck is.”

The Sergeant nearly choked as he strained to keep from laughing. It took an iron effort and every last scrap of negotiating experience he had, but he managed to ask, straight faced, “And what did you tell him?”

Sheepish, Lord Potter rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t remember,” he admitted.

Greg might’ve been able to keep it together, but then Mrs. Potter questioned, “So? What _is_ the function of a rubber duck?”

The negotiator gave up and laughed until he was almost breathless.

* * * * *

Harry chuckled, but not at his wife; he knew better than that. He did draw Ginny aside a little so they could talk while Parker recovered from his fit of laughter. “Gin, think about if _you_ had to live in the Muggle world and keep magic a secret without really knowing anything about Muggles. Could you keep magic a secret?”

Ginny bit her lip, considering the question. Then she shook her head defiantly. “Of course I could.”

The wizard arched a brow. “So, you think you could handle escalators, lifts, and Muggle cars?”

“Forget those,” Parker broke in unexpectedly. “ _Mio nipotes_ were having trouble dealing with the typical weekday afternoon crowd at our local mall.”

Harry froze; he hadn’t even _considered_ that. “They panicked?”

“Just about,” Parker confirmed quietly. “Too much noise, too many people. Jules asked if they’d been raised in a cult.”

“A cult?” Ginny questioned, confusion burning bright again, but Harry just shook his head. He knew what a cult was.

“Was it because of the crowds?” he inquired, cocking his head to the side.

Parker’s hand moved in a see-saw motion. “Partially that and partially because they didn’t know anything about technology,” the Sergeant explained. The man’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Of course, once my team knew about magic, they were able to help the kids settle in and start learning how to live tech-side.”

_Tech-side?_

* * * * *

Ginny studied Parker, her eyes narrow as she evaluated the Muggle. He spoke of his team and the young Calvins as if both were equal members of his family. But which would he chose if he were backed into a corner? His team or the two orphaned children in his care? She wasn’t sure and that left the red-haired witch unsettled. He was at least willing to share stories of the children, though each and every one was littered with references to his team. And there were a few stories that Ginny suspected he’d…held back on…hiding or downplaying a situation.

She wasn’t pleased by that, but she suspected pressing him for more details wouldn’t help. Rather, it would likely prevent her from seeing the children while she and Harry were in Toronto. And, since the entire _purpose_ of this trip was to see the youngsters, Ginerva Potter _refused_ to jeopardize her chances.

As the meeting continued, the Muggle park lost some of its menace. Not enough for Ginny to ever venture to the location by herself, but it wasn’t as foreign as it had felt at first. Even without magic, the park was very similar to the parks she took her children to, complete with laughing families, joyful, screaming children, and the creak of playground equipment.

* * * * *

The veteran negotiator considered his next move. Lord Potter still had issues by the bucketful with techies – that much was obvious, even if the wizard was using _much_ better manners than he had during their first encounter. Mrs. Potter, he suspected, had never been outside the magical world before. Or, if she had, it had been brief and about as short a trip as humanly possible.

She was also the type who believed, strongly, that children _needed_ both a maternal and paternal influence in their lives. As a man who’d been divorced over a decade, Greg didn’t meet that requirement. Not by a long shot. Whether she also had an issue with the fact that he wasn’t magical, Parker wasn’t sure…and it didn’t matter anyway. In theory, he didn’t disagree with Mrs. Potter’s belief that children needed both a mother and a father, but his _nipotes_ _had_ had a mother and a father, both of whom had loved each other dearly. That they’d lost their parents was no fault of theirs, nor his. And frankly, Greg didn’t think he was doing all that badly with his kids. Sure, there’d been a few bumps, mistakes, and misunderstandings. Some rebellions and consequences. But overall, the kids were happy, _he_ was happy, and if they needed a female perspective, well, they had three ‘aunts’ to choose from.

So, in short, Greg could tell the Potters to buzz off and leave his family alone – an option he was rather tempted to go for. After all, the Potters _weren’t_ related to the kids – they had no right to make demands of him or them. Or he could take a chance and let them see the kids, thus offering an olive branch and perhaps even mending a few fences for if he needed the Potters’ help in the future. They wouldn’t be meeting the kids magic-side, though…Greg didn’t trust either adult nearly enough for _that_. The Sergeant considered his options a few minutes more as he dragged out the meeting with a bit of small talk.

Then, just as the Potters were starting to fidget uncomfortably and glance at each other, Greg drew in a deep breath. “Would the two of you be interested in joining me and _mio nipotes_ for dinner?”

“Where?” Mrs. Potter demanded at once, excitement shining in her face.

One shoulder lifted. “I was thinking our local pizza place,” Greg replied nonchalantly.

Mrs. Potter wilted, just a bit, catching the implications that the dinner would _not_ be in the magical world. But Lord Potter studied him thoughtfully. “Do they still make Meat Lover’s pizza?” he asked hopefully.

Parker chuckled. “They do, but you might have to arm wrestle Lance to get some.”

Amusement gleamed. “I can do that,” the wizard agreed.

“Five thirty?” Greg offered. “And I’ve got the address in my car.”

The raven grinned. “Works for us, Sergeant.”

“Greg,” the negotiator countered.

Lord Potter’s grin grew just a tad wider. “Only if you call me Harry.”


	3. Not So Different After All

Greg resisted the urge to play with his slice of pizza as Mrs. Potter fussed over his _nipotes_ , mothering them as if it was second nature to her and urging them to ‘eat up’. He was pretty sure he’d also heard her mutter something about the kids being too thin, a comment that made him squirm, even though he knew very well that the teenagers ate well. In fact, sometimes he wondered if his nephew ate _too_ much, except Lance never put on additional weight, no matter _how_ much he packed away.

Like now; the Sergeant snickered under his breath as Lance cheerfully demolished his _fifth_ slice of Meat Lover’s pizza. Harry, on his second slice, hastily pushed the last slice towards the teen; he’d already figured out that getting between Lance and meat was a losing proposition. Across from her brother, Alanna nibbled on a slice of Hawaiian pizza, relishing each tidbit of pineapple and munching her way through the ham.

Parker’s attention shifted back to Mrs. Potter as she leaned closer to Alanna, murmuring something to the girl, her voice too low for Greg to hear her. But he could hear her tone: affectionate and motherly. His appetite fled once more and he returned to nudging his slice of pizza around the plate, trying to look like he’d eaten more than a quarter of his meal. _Had_ he been wrong to fight so hard to keep his _nipotes_? Sure, they could go to Sophie or Shelley or even Jules, but that wasn’t the same as having a _mother_. Or foster mother as the case may be.

He hadn’t forgotten Silnok’s pointed remarks about how he’d really been Arthur’s best option, but still…was he _really_ the _best_ choice for the _kids_? Doubt wriggled into his stomach, twisting it into knots as the Sergeant watched the red-haired woman mother his _nipotes_. With _Harry_ , they’d have a house, siblings, a _family_. All things he couldn’t give them, not in a million years. And they’d be living magic-side with their own kind. Not stuck in a techie world they still didn’t completely understand. No matter how much it hurt, he should do the right thing. For them.

Just as Greg was hitting a low point in his internal monologue, Mrs. Potter excused herself briefly to head for the restaurant’s restroom. As soon as she was gone, Parker found himself bracketed by his _nipotes_ , both of them looking inordinately relieved. Lance even nudged the final slice of Meat Lover’s back in Harry’s direction, right before he adjusted his position to ‘casually’ brush his arm against his uncle’s. Alanna skipped subtlety to burrow under Greg’s free arm, snuggling into his chest before he could even blink.

Choice. The negotiator’s appetite came back as he remembered his kids had _chosen_ him over Harry. He adjusted his position to eat with just one hand, leaving Alanna in her place against his chest, and returned his nephew’s brilliant grin with one of his own. No, he couldn’t give them what the Potters could, but they didn’t care. Maybe those first few days they might’ve, but not anymore. For some reason, _he_ was the one they wanted over the motherly Mrs. Potter and the rich, accomplished Lord Potter. Although Greg didn’t entirely understand their reasons, he wasn’t about to complain or protest.

Harry’s expression was a touch wistful as he watched the three of them, but the wizard didn’t say anything. Not even when his wife came back with a slightly pinched expression on her face at the sight of the Calvin teenagers practically curled around their uncle. As she watched the kids, Greg recognized the expression on her face. Jealousy. The negotiator throttled his budding indignation, though there was a corner of his mind that bristled. She had her _own_ children so why was she begrudging him his _nipotes_?

* * * * *

Harry watched as Lancelot, quite deliberately, acted up _just_ enough for a verbal reprimand. The teenager’s cheeky grin gave him away…he’d misbehaved on _purpose_ , just so the Potters could see his uncle’s reaction. By Harry’s side, Ginny sniffed disapprovingly, but Harry couldn’t agree with her.

_She_ thought the misbehavior meant Parker was an unfit guardian. That he couldn’t control his charges or rear them properly. But to _Harry_ , the misbehavior meant the exact _opposite_. Frankly, he had a sneaking suspicion that the teenagers had read him like an open book…somehow, they’d _known_ that Harry was educated enough in child abuse to know that rebellions, large or small, usually meant the child – or teenager – in question felt _comfortable_ enough to push the limits. Comfortable enough to see _just_ how far they could push before they got in trouble. And Lancelot had stopped his mischief as soon as Parker reprimanded him; if the teenager had _really_ been out of control, he would’ve kept misbehaving.

Parker shook his head in fond exasperation as Lancelot and Alanna slipped off to a small cluster of video games. “Teenagers,” he sighed.

“Tell me about it,” Harry commiserated. “Our three aren’t quite old enough for that, thank Merlin.”

“Believe me, they’ll get there,” the Muggle opined. “I’m just lucky that Sophie already volunteered to do The Talk with Alanna when she hits her next birthday.”

Harry shuddered violently at the thought of doing The Talk with _his_ little girl, casting a hopeful look at Ginny; she giggled at him before trailing after the teenagers, muttering something about keeping an eye on the ‘children’. Both men watched her leave, a bit bemused. Then Harry arched a brow at Parker. “So. What do you lot do when you aren’t being Aurors?”

Amusement flashed. Then Parker shrugged, so innocent that Harry tensed. “Oh, not much. Hostage crises, bomb calls, high risk warrants. You can never tell how a shift will go, even with preplanned warrants on tap.”

Harry leaned in, fascinated. “So you’re the Canadian equivalent of PT17 **(1)**?”

For a moment, Parker’s expression was confused, then it cleared and he nodded once. “It’s a bit more than that with us, but yes.”

The wizard cocked his head to the side. “How is your unit different?”

Parker considered the bespectacled, messy-haired raven, then he started explaining the ins and outs of the Police Strategic Response Unit to the Auror.

* * * * *

For the first time _ever_ , Harry was actually feeling comfortable around someone without magic. By the time Ginny and the two teenagers came back to the table, the wizard and the Squib-born were trading tips on investigating and catching criminals, after thoroughly exploring their observations and opinions on the differences between magical and non-magical crime, as well as the training cops received versus the training Aurors received.

The two men looked up simultaneously at Alanna’s muffled giggle, prompting a brief snort from Lancelot and a tolerant, annoyed yet affectionate look from Ginny. “Having fun, dear?” Ginny teased.

Harry’s expression turned a bit sheepish. “Time to go?”

Lancelot nodded as his uncle checked his watch and made a brief exclamation of surprise. “School tomorrow,” he explained as Parker rose and started herding the group towards the door.

Outside, Harry and Ginny declined the offered ride back to their hotel, but Harry did pull Parker aside for one last question. When he fidgeted, Parker questioned, “Yes?”

The wizard shuffled his feet a few seconds more, then asked, “Why didn’t you remove me as the Calvin Family proxy?”

The Squib-born studied him, then shook his head. “I’m not happy you tried to take _mio nipotes_ away from me.”

Harry’s gaze fell to the ground, a slight flush rising.

“That said,” Parker continued, “Arthur chose _you_ as his Family’s proxy. I’m not going to question my late cousin’s judgment on that score; _he_ wanted you and that’s the way it’s going to stay.” One shoulder hiked in a shrug. “Besides, I have no idea who a good alternative would be.”

Ginny would’ve been offended, but Harry, well aware that Parker still didn’t completely trust him, refused to flinch or take offense. Instead, he looked up at the other man, firming his jaw. “I won’t try to take them away again, Sergeant Parker. You have my word on that.”

The stocky man’s expression was skeptical, as if he would believe it when he saw it and not a moment before. But he didn’t say anything more on the topic. Instead, he extended his hand and shook Harry’s. “Safe trip home.”

“And to you,” Harry replied. He gathered up Ginny and the pair watched as Parker’s car pulled out of the parking lot, heading back to the Squib-born’s apartment. Ginny’s expression was slightly bereft; Harry squeezed her shoulders. “Ginny?”

Ginny sniffled. “They’re _happy_ with him, Harry.”

Harry nodded agreement. “You wanted him to be a monster, didn’t you?”

“No!” After a few seconds, Ginny reconsidered. “Well, enough of one so we could get them back,” she admitted. Silence hung between them, broken only by another sniffle. “But he’s not.”

“No, he’s not,” Harry whispered. “Ginny, I think… I think we have to trust that Arthur knew what he was doing when he picked Parker. He’s a good man, Ginny. And they _do_ have a family here, even if it’s a bit odd.”

“But who will Parker choose if it comes down to it?”

“Lancelot and Alanna.” Harry’s confidence rang. “It might rip him apart, but he’ll put the kids first, always.” He looked up at the night sky. “We can come back again sometime, Ginny.”

Ginny leaned her head into Harry’s chest. “Yes,” she replied. “We’ll come back.”

As the couple made their way to the hotel they’d booked for the night, Harry asked, “So…how’d you like the pizza?”

 

_~Fin_

 

[1] Although Britain’s SWAT currently carries the SCO19 designation, during the 1980s, when Harry was growing up, it was referred to as PT17. In 1991, the unit traded PT17 for SO19, but since Harry started Hogwarts that year, he still uses the older name.


End file.
